Don't Think About It
by fiery.fallen.angel
Summary: Dance, make a night to remember. Don't think about it.
1. Chapter 1

Clarice sighed as she applied the final touches to her makeup, barely glancing at her reflection before clasping a diamond bracelet around her wrist and a fixing on a matching necklace. Her dress was black, as were her shoes, but they were of a much higher calibre than anything she would buy for herself. In fact, her entire attire this evening had been gifts, arriving over the course of a few weeks with no note attached. She had said little to her new roommate regarding this, the girl would think she was insane, instead pretending that she had ordered them herself, hiding the designer labels as she did. She had opened each box, laboriously searching for some hint or sign from the sender, knowing before she did so she would find nothing. He was far too careful for such things nowadays, she thought ruefully. Why this disappointed her she did not know, a small part of her almost felt that by wearing them without being expressly told to, she was not following his rules. A small smile graced her face at this, a gift was a gift, and he would expect her to utilise his – whether or not it was accompanying him to the opera, or a night at a high end bar with her roommate was not for him to decide. Particularly when he couldn't even leave a note.

She slipped on the heels, a perfect fit – not that she expected anything less. It had been so long since she had worn such beautiful clothing, the memory of the last time still made her shudder; first, at the ingrained image of Paul's split open skull, then the bizarre heat between her and the doctor as he had trapped her hair and kissed her gently. This dress was not quite as revealing, the neckline plunged but only to accentuate her breasts rather than suggest they could be easily exposed like the previous one. The straps were thick across her shoulders, crossing behind her neck to leave the middle of her back exposed, clinging to the shape of her hips and her rear. There was a simple slit up to her mid-thigh, obvious only when she walked and her shapely legs moved the floor length fabric. He would have adored her in this.

"Clar! I'm ready when you are!" Her English roommate and newfound friend called up the stairs, surprising her into life away from Hannibal Lecter once more. She grabbed her clutch, dashed downstairs to her waiting companion and their taxi, and was on her way to her first night on the town in months.

"I love it here, it's truly magical." Kelly smiled at Clarice. The English girl was a constant source of humour to the ex-agent, she had expected her accent to irritate but instead found the lilt as charming as the girl herself. They were from entirely different worlds; Kelly was a well-travelled Art History graduate who had found herself in the U.S recently, after gaining a teaching job in one of the less funded universities. She brought up her work in conversation often, and Clarice often found it fascinating. Perhaps it reminded her of – she stopped her thought in its tracks, she knew why she enjoyed listening to the English accent speak of Italian art, of her trips around Europe studying the ancient artwork that Clarice knew little of in comparison.

"Do you like it, Clar?" Her roommate was staring at her intently, as she often did when Clarice seemed to be stuck in her own thoughts.

"Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I was-" she began, but stopped when Kelly held a hand up.  
"Look, I know you've been a bit out of it lately, you've hinted a bit that you're hung up on some guy who isn't around anymore, but tonight needs to be about us! We deserve some fun, you working in that small town police station and me with all those – no offence – hick students!" Kelly giggled as she brandished two glasses of champagne for them. "Get this down you. You look phenomenal, by the way."

"Thank you," Clarice blushed slightly as she sipped at the bubbles.

"Come on Clar, let's go and dance!"

"I don't dance, Kelly, I fall over. Especially in these shoes."

Kelly rolled her eyes dramatically, used to Clarice's oddities by now, and accepted an offer to dance with a nearby woman instead. Gender seemed to have no hold on Kelly; she liked whomever showed her attention if they made her laugh, and this seemed to prove her popular with anyone. Clarice had no idea how people were so brave enough to go up to one another, knowing nothing of the person they were about to speak to, particularly between Kelly and other women. Clarice didn't understand how they simply _knew_ there was an attraction, but she was beginning to understand there was a lot she would never comprehend about the attraction-centric world.

A few songs later, Kelly found Clarice perched on a tall bar stool with another glass of champagne in front of her. "Hey! You okay?" She asked, slightly breathless as the same woman from earlier clung to her waist.

"I'm good, honey. Drinking my bubbles," Clarice smiled at her friend, hiding that she would have preferred a triple Jack Daniels over ice. "You go have fun."

She sipped her way through her glass, and was debating what she should do with her evening when a hand brushed the bare skin of her back.

"Hey beautiful," a man slurred at her, entirely too close to her face for her liking. His breath reeked of cheap tobacco and even cheaper vodka. She recoiled slightly, her distaste clearly apparent upon her face. This was enough to turn his drunken leering to an expression of pure malice.

"Oh you think you're too good for me do you" He hissed into her ear. She was taken aback, never had she seen someone react this way so quickly.

"Listen, I'm just waiting for my friend. Back off" Clarice stated firmly. She didn't want trouble, but if necessary, she would break every bone in his body before she let him intimidate her. Rage bubbled inside her as he leaned closer still, both his hands now touching her, roaming her body. She shoved him away, and he stumbled backwards momentarily, before steadying himself on the bar. Fury crossed his already contorted features, and he started towards her again. She was ready for him, almost wishing it so that she could use her still-sharp reflexes to crush this pig of a man. He did not quite make it to her, however, as a figure that had quickly materialised next to her distracted her attention briefly, the man slipped in a large puddle of liquid that she had not noticed on the floor, landing hard on his back. The figure next to her motioned to the security to remove him, and he was quickly dragged from the establishment, slurring protests as he went. Clarice turned, ready to thank the person for coming to her aid, still slightly annoyed that she had not got the chance to –

"Hello, Clarice."

Her eyes met dark irises for the first time since that night. He had not changed much, perhaps a little more tanned than before. Her mouth parted slightly, but no noise escaped her. She was frozen in place, her prior instinct of fear around him not the issue, but sheer shock. A smile creeped onto his face as he held up an empty glass to the bartender, who nodded quickly and set to making him a fresh drink.

"I always think it a shame to waste good alcohol on the undeserving, but it was rather comical to watch him fall. Even if it was on the finest bottle of white this place has to offer." Doctor Hannibal Lecter smiled at Clarice as he accepted a new glass graciously, sipping it slowly.

"May I sit down, Clarice, or are you still battling your internal monsters?" He asked, sounding a mixture of amused and mildly irritated at her lack of response. "I had hoped for you to be a little more dramatic, given the last time we met, but no matter."

She shook her head slightly, "I could have handled that man you know."

He looked surprised that this was the only thing she could say, but followed suit nonetheless.

"Oh of that I have no doubt, Clarice." His fingers traced her arms, following the slight curve of her bicep.

"I did, however, think this establishment would benefit more by having a beautiful customer such as yourself remaining by its bar, not being dragged out by its security. While it truly… enrages… me to see such a vile creature touching you, and I can't say I wouldn't have enjoyed watching you break his bones, I would much rather your reputation in this small town remain intact. Or perhaps, I selfishly wanted to take the credit, become your hero, for once." His smile returned, and he held out his hand.

"Come, I have a private booth just over there."

"Why am I not surprised," she muttered, automatically accepting his hand to help her from the bar stool, and following him, one step behind, to the darkest corner of the bar. She had not noticed this seating area before, but she supposed that was the point.

He placed both their drinks down on the table and motioned for her to sit. She did, the cool leather against her back calming her slightly. What on earth was she doing sitting casually with this man?

Maybe it was the champagne.

He sat next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat even through his suit jacket, but not quite touching. She found she wouldn't have minded.

"You look truly ravishing, Clarice." His eyes were roaming her body, before staring into her own, and she felt herself gasp slightly.

"Maybe I should go and find my friend-" she said quietly, finding herself focused entirely on his mouth, remembering briefly what those lips had felt like upon her own.

"As you wish, Clarice…" But she didn't move.

"Why are you here, Doctor?"

His hand covered hers gently.

"Don't think about it, Clarice." He breathed into her ear. He stood up, pulling her with him, and led her to the dancefloor.

With one hand pressed tightly to the small of her back, the other caressed her side. She stood for a second, before allowing herself to join her wrists behind his head, looking directly into his eyes, which seemed even darker than she had ever known them. He swayed her gently, and she followed.

She opened her mouth to query, but his fingers pressed to her parted lips before she could break the magic.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarice shivered as his fingers traced the bare skin of her back. They remained intertwined on the dancefloor, surrounded by other couples, none of whom they noticed. Dark eyes locked on sweet blue-grey ones, and he leaned down slowly towards her, waiting for a sign of approval. Clarice was unable to give one.

"Doctor Lecter…"

He moved slightly away from her at the use of his full title.

"You could be recognised… Please… Not here?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly, understanding her, and turned towards the door. He made a motion with his hand to a man near the exit, who ran outside quickly.

"My car will be but a mere moment, Clarice." He said, his tone light and joking, the pressure of his hand on her back still sending electric tremors down her spine. She couldn't look him in the eye, knowing he would read far too well the exact effect he had on her. It was this inability of hers, however, that cemented his assurance that she would be accompanying him home tonight.

The drive was long, but the car comfortable. He drove in silence, humming sighs occasionally in a deep baritone that made Clarice's thoughts wonder to the sounds he made when he was pleasured. She shook her head slightly, not noticing the slight smile that appeared on his face when she did so. He knew the effect on her, that much was certain.

"What made you drive all this way to that bar tonight, Doctor – um, Hannibal?"

He laughed aloud at her attempt at nonchalance. She had never used his first name before.

"Clarice, my dear, you truly are a wonder. I came because I knew you would be there, and I admit, I gave in to curiosity regarding the gifts I had sent you. I was pleased to see you wearing them all, you look even better than in my imagination." His hand left the wheel momentarily, one long finger running up the thigh slit in her dress, caressing her skin briefly. She tilted her head back a little automatically, biting down slightly on her bottom lip. Her reaction did not escape his notice, and he shifted slightly in his seat.

They drove still further, her nerves beginning to truly set in the longer they drove as she second guessed both herself and Lecter. Alone, weaponless, no one knew where she was, what if he hurt her – could he hurt her?

The panic welled inside her as he turned the car down a dark wooded path, unnoticeable to anyone driving down the unlit road. They reached a small cottage, still shrouded by trees, and the car was slowed to a stop in front of it. Her breathing was now shallower than before as she questioned her sanity alongside his motives, and he seemed to notice this. Hannibal Lecter, ever the gentleman, walked to her side of the car to open the door for her, and extended his hand. She took it slowly, letting him stroke the back of her hand with his thumb as she stood, only slightly shakily, on the uneven ground. He closed the door behind her quietly, and hummed in disapproval.

"Well, this won't do, will it Clarice?"

She looked at him, for the first time since they had begun dancing. Their faces were inches apart, but they touched nowhere aside from her hand gently in his.

"What's that?" She found herself speaking in a whisper, entirely unintentionally.

"You, Clarice. You're scared, it's a battle between exhilaration and fear inside you. Your body screams at you simultaneously to run from me and to leap into the abyss with me." His free hand cupped her face softly.

"I would never hurt you, Clarice."

He leaned slightly closer to her, his lips so close to hers now.

"I swear it."

She moved forward unthinkingly, crushing her lips to the doctor's. Damned be the consequences. A low hum in the back of his throat spurred her into further action, and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. He reacted with equal intensity, his body pushing hers so that her back hit the car door as she gripped the front of his shirt in her fists, a moan escaping her as he pulled one of her legs tightly around his waist, sliding his hand between the fabric as he did so to grip her thigh.

It took all his restraint to not take her against his car in the dark woods, but this was not the first time he wanted for them.

He removed his hands and took a single step backwards, not hiding his accelerated breathing from her. There would be little point, he thought, as he noticed her gaze fixed on his trousers.

"Now now, Clarice, a little decorum." He said, tilting his head with a smirk. Her gaze, now almost as dark as his own, met his, and the smirk was wiped off his face. She looked like she could overpower him and have her way with _him_ against the car, his image of their first time be damned, but she didn't move, that is, until he leaned towards her and lifted her off her feet to carry her towards the front door of the cottage. She couldn't help but allow a giggle to escape as he kicked open the latch on the door with her still in his arms, and he smiled gently down at her. He held her fast as he climbed a flight of stairs, over the threshold of what she would later notice to be a large bedroom with an adjoining en suite. For now, however, her entire focus remained on him even as he placed her back on her feet, next to his king sized bed.

"Clarice, I feel like I must amend my earlier declaration," he said, as his hands reached for the clasp of her necklace. He undid it with ease, placing it on the table nearest to him, doing the same with her bracelet.

"And what would that mean, Doctor?" the renewed use of his title in such a situation made Hannibal's lips part slightly, his control thrown into question as usual by only one; Clarice Starling.

His hands reached for her neck again, this time unfastening the top of her dress, which he slid off her shoulders and let pool gracefully at their feet. She stood, clad in a gift to herself that she swore to wear only under attire he had bought for her. The lingerie was barely black, hiding no part of what it covered, and his attention was caught and held for several long moments, until she placed a finger under his chin and pulled his gaze back to meet hers. She revelled briefly in the feeling of control.

"Well?" she asked, pushing his jacket down his arms and throwing it to the floor before making short work of his shirt buttons.

"I must amend the promise that I will never hurt you, Clarice." His eyes flashed, and he smiled, knowing a spark of fearful electricity had just ran through her body. "I may hurt you, but what I will promise to you, my darling…" he ripped off both pieces of skimpy underwear, one in each hand, before pushing her onto the bed,

"You will enjoy every moment of it."  
Shirt thrown to the floor, the doctor began to move atop of her slowly, beginning with his mouth at her ankle and kissing the inside of her leg, over her hip (she sighed in frustration), up her toned stomach and between her breasts (her back arched slightly, her hands gripped into his shoulders) until he reached her neck. He bit down, eliciting a surprised "oh!" from his lover, and her nails scratched down his back hard in response.

He reacted to the pleasing pain of her nails, pushing himself automatically forward between her parted thighs, and her body quivered as he grazed her, his incredibly expensive trousers the only barrier between them. Her hands instinctively flew to undo his belt, button and zip, leaning forwards to push both trousers and underwear over him carefully, down to where his knees reached the bed. He shifted to remove them entirely, kicking off footwear in the same process and she moved so that her mouth was aligned with his manhood when he was undressed. He watched in surprise as she kissed the tip of him, her eyes moved up to look at his response as she parted her lips to lick her tongue across the head, before sliding her lips around him. "Clarice," he hissed, his fingers tangling in her hair. She continued, sucking him into her mouth while her tongue teased the tip of him, allowing him deeper, her eyes fixed on his expression of lust. He looked so dangerous like this, she thought, as she took him as deep as she could, swallowing hard as she did so, and she felt a strong shudder run through his body. He grasped her hair and pulled her back with force, anger crossing his features.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't attempt to ensure I finish before we've even begun, Clarice." He spoke through gritted teeth, his hands still in her hair. She smiled up at him, unafraid, high on a sense of power, pleased with the control over him she had exercised.

"Well, doctor, if you can't handle it..." She began teasingly, shrieking as he grabbed both of her wrists in one of his strong hands, forcing her back into a lying position, his other hand resting on her thigh briefly, his mouth on hers once more, growling as he tasted himself slightly on her tongue. His fingers caressed the inside of her thighs, only barely touching where she needed him most, until her hips bucked impatiently. Their eyes met, and he quickly pressed two fingers deep inside her. Clarice let out a strangled cry, her head thrown back in pleasure between her still outstretched arms. He nipped at her throat, her collarbone, not moving inside her in the thought she would need a moment to be able to continue, but this was Clarice Starling. Never failing to surprise him, she moved her hips, grinding herself down onto his long fingers and moaning wantonly into his ear, and for the second time since they reached his room that evening, Hannibal was desperately trying to regain his control.

"Oh Clarice… you're exquisite," he breathed into her ear, and her movements slowed as she leaned her mouth back to his. He removed his hand from where it held her wrists together, and she instantly wrapped them around his neck and back. He repositioned his body so he was between her thighs, sliding his fingers out of her and pointedly tasting her on his fingers as she watched him breathlessly. He hummed low in his throat in pleasure, and seemingly instinctively slid down her body to taste her further. His tongue flicked out slowly against her as his hands pushed her thighs wider apart. He didn't notice her fists grip the sheets, focused entirely on taste and touch, reacting to her moans. His teeth grazed her most sensitive spot and his name escaped her lips loudly, an exclamation of surprised pleasure, as her back arched.

Hannibal could not wait any longer.

He entered her slowly, drawing out the anticipation for as long as he could stand, before pinning her wrists down and thrusting into her deeper with every movement. Her legs wrapped around his back, and they stayed like this for time, becoming more and more frantic until she was nearing a climax – but not as near as him. He, aware of this, withdrew from her slowly to stand at the edge of the bed, pulling her with him. Her legs were pushed in the air and he held them apart to enter her again from a standing position, letting go of her ankle only to move her own hand to encourage her to touch herself. The view pushed him over the edge, and she was seconds behind him as he reached his climax, her vision going momentarily black.

It was a while before she noticed him collapsed next to her, both of them still panting heavily. It had been a while.

She turned to him, mouth open as though about to speak, although with what words she did not know.

"Sssh, Clarice." He murmured, pulling her into an embrace and covering them both with the expensive bedding. "Don't think about it."


End file.
